Epilogue

The flames licked at Merry’s skin, singeing the soles of her feet and leaping higher to ignite her clothing. Her enemies had caught up to her, as they’d known they would, despite Luke’s vigilance. Why now, though, when life was so exquisitely sweet?

She tried pulling away from the fire, but it surrounded her. Even through her closed eyelids, she could see it—bright orange and relentless. Over its wicked crackling came voices and laughter as the onlookers mocked her torment. Without opening her eyes, she sensed that Amalie among them, gloating with her arms crossed. How could that be, when the king had sent her back to Normandy to marry a count?

Even more wondrous, how was it she was still alive, not roasted by the flames that engulfed her?

Desperate to escape the heat, she thrashed against her restraints. If only Luke would sweep in and rescue her . . . if only!

“Merry,” the voices called her name. One after the other. Why didn’t they douse the fire and help her? “Lady Merry,” they said, over and over like a sing-song.

Then someone shook her, and the orange flames disappeared.

Abruptly, she awakened. Looking down at her was a circle of joyful faces—Rauf, Peter, Heloise, and Edeline.

“Wake up and watch us!” Peter demanded. Pieces of grass clung to his blond head and to his clothing.

The grass in his hair recalled Merry to what she’d been doing—watching the orphans roll down the little hills that formed Arundel’s tiered gardens. The warm sun and her broken sleep of late must have made her drowsy enough to lie back and drift off into dreams.

“Let me sit up, my loves,” she said, glad that the nightmare had been so mild that time. It had been a long while since the last one, giving her hope that soon they would plague her no longer.

The children backed away, and she sat up, realizing that her legs were pinned by Kit, who lay across her gown, fat and content, taking his ease. He clambered off as she moved, freeing her to roll to her feet to check on the baby.

In the shade of an oak tree, Dame Maude, who loved babies more than life itself, sat on a blanket rocking the wooden cradle in which Isabel d’Aubigny slept peacefully. Luke had brought the elaborate cradle with its rockers carved into the shape of rabbits from one of his trips abroad. The baby never failed to drift off when placed in it.

“How does she?” Merry asked, sitting beside the cradle and peering inside.

“You were right about the Angelica root,” Dame Maude replied. “Not a bit o’ cryin’ since.”

Like the rest of the castle staff, even locals for miles around, Dame Maude never questioned Merry’s ability to treat ailments. Her reputation as a healer had spread far and wide so that when anyone within half a day’s travel fell ill or had a rash or a fever or even difficulty with childbirth, Merry was summoned to help them.

“Then tonight we shall both sleep better,” Merry predicted.

A late-summer breeze ruffled the baby’s dark curls and stirred the fruity scents wafting from Arundel’s orchard. It awakened Isabel, who opened her light-colored eyes and smiled up at her mother.

“My sweet.” With a rush of tenderness, Merry scooped her infant from the cradle, kissing Isabel’s soft cheek and breathing her sweet baby’s scent.

What a gift to see life anew through her daughter’s eyes! On the day that she was born, Merry had vowed that her tiny, perfect daughter would never suffer the travails that she had suffered. Within the protective walls of their home, Isabel would grow safely and serenely, thriving under the devoted eyes of her parents, who loved her to distraction.

The other children in the castle had latched onto her with awe and devotion. She would never be lonely.

And God willing, she would never lose the father she adored, even though Luke was often called away, mostly to Normandy as an emissary for the king.

The reminder of his absence dimmed Merry’s contentment. Once he inherited the castle, his missions for Henry would become less frequent. While Merry had no desire to hasten Lord William’s demise, Merry looked forward to the day when Luke would come home to stay.

Any day, now, she expected his return from his latest voyage to France. He’d been gone nearly a month, negotiating the release of English hostages. Though she kept herself busy, reading books from Arundel’s library on general botany, lichenology, and herbalism, and contemplating writing her own plant compendium, still the days seemed to creep by without his commanding, engaging presence.

The sudden blare of the herald’s trumpet caused her to start with expectation.

Could it be Luke? With the baby in her arms, she pushed to her feet, craning her neck to see the gate over the shrubbery. The sound of a horse preceded any sighting on the pathway. When she spotted the silvery head of the earl, her hopes sank though she managed to send him a cheerful wave and a smile.

Lord William cut a robust figure atop his impressive chestnut mount. One would never know by looking at him that he’d been close to death six months earlier. Thanks to her healing touch, he was now fully restored to health—save a tendency to tire easily. That morning, she recalled, he had ridden out to visit his tenants where they worked the fields.

Over the distance between them, he returned her greeting, then looked back, gesturing for someone to come forward. Carried on the gentle breeze, the sound of several horses reached her ears.

As Luke’s dark head came into view, Merry shrieked with surprise and started at a run in his direction, the baby clutched to her chest.

With a grin, he goaded his destrier forward, trotting past his grinning grandfather to pull his mount abreast of Merry. Then he leaped from the saddle, sweeping her into his fervent embrace.

“Careful,” Merry cautioned as Isabel gave a shriek of her own.

Fortunately, Luke had already removed his mail. It rested in a dark heap in a hemp bag atop the horse roped to Erin’s mount. Merry tried to greet the squire, who smiled down at her, but Luke’s mouth descending over hers prevented her from speaking. When his hand strayed from her waist to squeeze her curves through the layers of her skirts, she could only imagine Erin’s expression.

At last, Luke raised his head, keeping his golden gaze firmly upon hers.

“Erin, take Suleyman and the other horses to the stables,” he instructed. “Give them the best oats we’ve got, for they earned it, getting us home so quickly.”

“Aye, lord.” With a shy smile for Merry, Erin caught up the destrier’s reins and turned away.

Luke took belated note of his daughter.

“Oh, my pearl,” he exclaimed, clearly awed by her porcelain perfection. “Look how big you’ve grown! Come to Papa?” he asked, holding out his arms.

The baby looked away, politely denying him.

“Has she forgotten me?” he asked on a worried note.

“Of course not,” Merry comforted. “She is merely aware that you’re in need of a bath.”

She held their daughter higher so that Isabel held Luke’s rapt gaze. “Oh, she can sit now, darling, on her own! And she rocks back and forth on her hands and knees. She’ll be crawling any day now.”

“Then I’ll be here to see it,” he said with satisfaction. His gaze rose to Merry’s. Stretching out a hand, he caught the side of her face. “How I missed you. Next time, you must come with me. Isabel will be old enough to travel.”

She nodded in agreement. “Not anytime soon, I hope.”

“Nay, not for a while. Normandy should be quiet for at least a few months. Henry and I whipped the rebels soundly.”

“Of course you did.”

He stepped closer, lowering his mouth to her ear and whispered, for Maude was having trouble holding back the other children. “It has been too long since I felt you pressed against me, sprite. I’m in dire need of you.”

“Greet the children then,” she suggested, “and I will bathe you myself in our chamber.”

Stealing another kiss from her, he threw wide his arms as a signal for the orphans to rush at him, all at once. As they squealed and clambered over him, hinting as to whether he had brought them any gifts, Merry returned the baby to Maude.

“Bring her to my chamber in about an hour. She’ll be hungry by then.”

“You, too, I warrant,” Merry thought she heard Maude say, but by then, she was walking briskly toward the keep.

Nine months later, to the day, Luke and Merry welcomed into the world a handsome baby boy—the future Earl of Arundel.

The End

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—MM & SJB

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